


And I Do Lift My Aching Arms to You

by gaslightgallows (hearts_blood)



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Dry Humping, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Laughter, Loud Sex, Silly, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 20:24:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12350025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/pseuds/gaslightgallows
Summary: A simple diversionary tactic turns into something a little more involved, when an undercover Phryne and Jack have to allay the suspicions of their fellow party-goers. Written for the 2015 Phryne Ficathon.





	And I Do Lift My Aching Arms to You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tisziny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisziny/gifts).



> Written for Tisziny, for the prompt "Jack and Phryne are undercover as a couple and at some point have to pretend to have sex, knowing they are being watched/listened in on. It ends up being more real than either of them planned when one (or both!) of them reaches orgasm from the frottage/kissing alone." If you’re on Tumblr, please consider following me at [gaslightgallows.tumblr.com](http://gaslightgallows.tumblr.com) for more fic, reblogs about writing, and lots of randomness.

The bedroom door slammed shut behind them with such force that it shook the lamps on the bedside tables. Jack would have been willing (mostly willing) to stop and let go (he would do it if Phryne asked) but Phryne spun them round, with her hands fisted into the wide lapels of his hideous brown lounge suit and her lips crushed to his, and planted her back firmly against the door.

“That,” she whispered between increasingly frantic kisses, “was a marvelous performance, ‘Archie’.”

“I hope the rest of the party guests were convinced,” Jack replied, unable to speak above a rasp. He marveled that he could speak at all, when Phryne Fisher was kissing him. Repeatedly. And passionately. Even if it was only a ruse...

“Mmm, I’m sure they are,” she purred, still whispering against his lips so that only he could hear. “They’re in the corridor right now, giggling and shushing each other.” His eyes went wide, and in that quick, heated moment of silence, he heard them as well. Phryne reached back and turned the lock of the door, bolting it securely. “They’re listening to us.”

Murder, illicit drug use, hideous crimes against all manner of fashion and good taste, and now shameless voyeurism. He’d always known the Fitzpatrick crowd were a prize bunch, but this just capped everything. “What do we do?”

In reply, Phryne hitched up her skirt and hooked her leg over his hip. He could feel the heat of her through her silk underwear and his wool trousers and drawers, and had to bite back something that might have been a whimper, if he’d allowed himself to give voice to it.. “Bed,” she mouthed, her lips swollen and her eyes dancing with mischief. “Now.”

She had her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist before he could even consider protesting, and the sheer momentum of her insistence carried them both to the bed. “Is this really necessary?” Jack demanded, his breath beginning to come in short, sharp little gasps. She was so incredibly soft beneath him, and he was shamefully hard and sick to the back teeth of noble abstinence. But this wasn’t how he’d ever dreamed of bringing Phryne Fisher to bed...

“We have to give them a good show, Jack,” Phryne insisted, grinning with wide not-at-all-innocent eyes, and running her fingers through his over-brilliantined hair. “They think we’re fathoms deep in love and unable to keep our hands off each other. We don’t want them getting suspicious. Take off your jacket.” He did, glad to get out of the hideous hounds-tooth-check excuse for a suit jacket, and then Phryne quickly divested him of his waistcoat and dragged his braces off his shoulders and over his arms, before pressing her lips to his in a searing kiss.

“Phryne...”

“And make it look good,” she added, making quick work of his gold tie. “They’re probably watching through the keyhole.” She quickly undid the buttons of his fly (a motion, he realized, that was in full view of the anyone peeping through the keyhole) and undulated beneath him like a wave, driving the soft silk-covered heat at the apex of her thighs up against his erection,  _hard_.

Jack let out a groan that probably could’ve been heard across the Pacific Ocean, eliciting a burst of badly-smothered giggles and catcalls from behind the door. “Ignore them,” Phryne ordered, “and pretend to make love to me.”

“Pretend—”

“Put those amateur acting chops to good use, Major-General.”

The taunt cut through the fog at the front of Jack’s brain, and he scowled and thrust against her.

Phyrne threw back her head and let out a long and  _very_  convincing cry of delight. “Oh,  _Archie_ , God! You’re so big!”

Suddenly the whole thing went from humiliating spectacle to spectacular farce, and it was all he could do to keep from breaking down into hysterical giggles. So that was the way he needed to play it? He could do that. “Yes, Phryne!” he groaned, intentionally loud. “Squeeze me tighter!”

She clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. Clearly, she was enjoying the ludicrousness of the situation as much as he was. She pressed her lips to his ear and slid her hands down his back and down the back of his trousers to grip his arse. “Harder, Jack,” she whispered when he gasped in surprise. “And more noise.” Then she arched her back and moaned theatrically. “Harder, Archie!”

Jack bit his lip and wrapped his hands around the bed’s knobbly modern headboard for more purchase. The throbbing in his cock had mercifully subsided, and now he could appreciate the ludicrousness of their predicament without worrying that he might spend himself at the worst possible moment. Besides, when else might he get the chance to have Phryne Fisher gasping orgasmically in his arms? He raised an eyebrow at his partner and ‘lover’. “Ready?”

“Do your utmost, Inspector.”

He grinned and gave her a quick kiss that was more playful than passionate, and then buried his face in her throat and ground his pelvis against Phryne’s mound. The rhythm he found wasn’t quite right, because he couldn’t entirely stave off the low laughing that he muffled in Phryne’s throat, but it was good enough for police work. Phryne was making all the appropriate noises and motions of enjoyment, and the only sound coming from behind the locked door now was heavy, appreciative breathing.

“How much longer do we have to keep this up?” he growled after a few minutes.

“What’s wrong, ‘Archie’?” Phryne teased, somewhat breathlessly. “Out of practice?”

He  _was_ , but Jack felt that remark was still uncalled for, so he retorted with an especially hard thrust.

Phryne let out a sharp cry. “Oh  _God_ , do that again!”

Jack thought she was laying it on a bit thick now, but he obliged.

“Yes, Archie,  _yes!_  Oh God, I’m coming—come with me, Archie, please!”

“Yes, Phryne, yes—!” Jack shouted wordlessly, gave one last strong thrust for good measure and then lay still for a moment or two, his face in the curve made by Phryne’s neck and shoulder. After a few second of pretending to collect himself, he made a show of kissing Phryne softly and thoroughly. “You alright?” he murmured.

“Hmm…” Her eyes were still closed. “Mmhmm.”

Jack held his breath for a moment or two, listening to the group of Bright Young Things in the corridor—waiting for an encore, no doubt. Then, when none was forthcoming, he heard the slow soft shuffle of feet moving away to find other amusements. Jack let out a silent sigh of relief. “I believe our voyeuristic audience has gone,” he whispered, turning his attention back to Phryne with a wry smile.

But his grin faded when he saw her face. Her warm, flushed face, and her soft eyes, gazing up at him in a surprised and satisfied afterglow. “Phryne? Are you...” Quickly he wormed his hand between them to make sure he hadn’t inadvertently climaxed without realizing it (and he was going to be  _furious_  with himself if he’d missed that), and encountered instead the dripping wet silk covering Phryne’s sex. “ _Oh_.” He coughed reflexively, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks and the blood returning to his cock. “I…” But when he made to jerk his hand away, Phryne closed her thighs on his fingers.

“Jack.” Her arms twined about his neck and pulled him down for a deeply tender kiss. There was none of the playful lust of their earlier deception, only a slow, gentle affection, and need. “Jack… I want you.” She rolled her hips beneath him and slipped one hand between them, dipped into his unbuttoned fly and the flap of his drawers to palm his erection.

“I thought… oh,” he said softly, his eyes fluttering closed for a blissful second, memorizing the feel of her warm, sure touch against his hard cock, “you didn’t allow yourself to be lustfully compromised during your murder investigations.”

Phryne smiled at him, and while his body was rousing to readiness again, his mind and heart were suddenly at peace. “I’ve waited a long time to have my arms around you properly. This is no compromise.”


End file.
